


In their darkest hour they found hope

by aceofhearts88



Series: Sons of Stone [3]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Kinda, Sad, also happy, babes, dwarflings, hidden information for sons of stone, please don't post guesses in the comments, post Azanulbizar, pre quest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-01
Updated: 2015-03-01
Packaged: 2018-03-15 20:59:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3461807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aceofhearts88/pseuds/aceofhearts88
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He returned from Moria a changed dwarf, but it wasn't the title, it wasn't the byname, weren't the new scars on his skin, wasn't the still dried blood on his clothes. It was the coldness in his heart that he carried back into the Blue Mountains from the blood soaked battle field of Azanulbizar, the emptiness of knowing that for the second time in his still young life, nothing would ever be the same again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In their darkest hour they found hope

**Author's Note:**

> Set pre quest and can be seen as another prequel oneshot to "Sons of Stone".  
> It includes some spoilers for the fic, if you read really deep between the lines, but I chose to post it now already because I don't think anyone will see it now already.  
> If you have any ideas or guesses, please don't write it in the comments, but you are all welcome to send those to my inbox on tumblr (aceofhearts)!
> 
> Also please keep in mind that I played and messed with canon timeline, Azanulbizar got pushed back a couple of centuries to come together with a certain other event that you will find out if you read on.

He returned from Moria a changed dwarf, but it wasn't the title, it wasn't the byname, weren't the new scars on his skin, wasn't the still dried blood on his clothes. It was the coldness in his heart that he carried back into the Blue Mountains from the blood soaked battle field of Azanulbizar, the emptiness of knowing that for the second time in his still young life, nothing would ever be the same again.

But this time there was no one to turn to.

No one who could offer him the guidance he needed.

This time everyone looked to him.

Thorin took off to reclaim a lost kingdom as a prince in exile, second in line to the throne of another lost kingdom. Son of Thrain, son of Thror had been the only byname he had ever had until that fateful day on the fields outside of Durin's halls.

He returned as Thorin Oakenshield, uncrowned king of Durin's folk, leader of a homeless people, lord in a foreign mountain range.

Because his grandfather was dead.

Because his father was gone and everyone had given up already.

Because his brother was dead.

Because his brother-in-law was only a turtored soul in a battered body.

Because the dwarf he called uncle and captain his entire life was slowly dying with each breath he took.

Because the dam he called aunt had been burning before anyone could have saved her lifeless body.

Thorin returned to Ered Luin with nothing but hopelessness in his bones and pain in his veins.

\--

They had sent ravens with messages ahead when their small caracan of survivors was only a couple of days away from their settlement, because he just couldn't face the thought that their people...his people might be looking from the walls of the gate with hope shining in their eyes. A message had already been sent right after the battle, but it had only included the fallen warrior's of the royal family, these ones now went out to so many more families.

They had failed. They had lost so many good dwarves. Friends. Family.

Still though, it was not in the nature of a dwarf to grieve and they were welcome with the strained joy of a mourning feast, warriors and those who had come to fight were tugged away from families and friends to rest, to drink and eat, to forget the pain, to mourn the dead by paying respect to the lives they had led.

But as they walked up the path to the royal quarters, there wasn't much left of them anymore. Gloin and Oin supported Groin between them and vanished to a quietly weeping Hera in front of their house, her young daughter-in-law standing pale and shivering next to her.

And then there were none.

Or at least it felt that way, because in truth, five of them were left. Five. Where nine had set out four months ago. And Thorin knew that even five was not the number of royal dwarrows that returned. Glancing behind himself to the cart Balin was steering through the empty path up to their small set of houses, he only had to remind himself of the dwarf forced into a deep sleep to keep his fits under control.

Vili was no longer the gentle faced lord's son who had followed after a king who hadn't even been his own, but who had been nothing but undeniably loyal to Durin's folk right from the start. Now there were no jokes from him anymore, only blank stares and uncontrollable fits of rage and battle fury.

Sitting next to his unconscious brother-in-law, Fundin had closed his eyes as well, one hand pressed over his chest again, the fever had broken on the road, the infection had settled so deep into his bones that it was only a question of time now, he was a broken soldier, and Thorin knew that between him and his two best friends, he wasn't the only one who wondered what was letting Fundin hold on.

He had lost his closest friend, had lost the king he had always followed loyally and without fault, had seen his wife, the love of his life, the mother of his sons be brutally murdered and burned right before his eyes, right before the spear had pierced through his back and chest. Everyone had expected him to die before they even managed to bring him away from the battlefield, but something kept him to this earth.

Thorin could only hope that when the time came he would leave in peace and not in pain. Next to him, having thrown protocol out of the window when Thorin had begged him to in a night five days ago, Dwalin was silent, stoic, cold, but when his face broke, every hidden emotion crashing to the surface again, Thorin knew that he didn't even look up front again to know who was standing outside their home.

There were only two people left who could bring this side of Dwalin to the light of the day, and when he did turn around he caught sight of the round face of a dwarrow lad who he had so dearly wished to have never experienced this much pain in his life ever. Two people left who could touch Dwalin's heart, two people left who could bring Thorin to his knees.

Two dwarves left of the line of Durin aside from them.

And young Fili was standing right there outside their home, no tears on his young face, no surprise or shock in his blue eyes, just silence, just a quiet knowledge. Dis must have told him, and despite his five years of age, Thorin could see that his nephew had understood what had happened. That he would never see half of his family ever again in this world.

Soundlessly, Thorin dropped to his knees, sword falling from his hands and onto the ground, sinking into the snow, and he held out one hand towards the little boy, the little shivering dwarfling who would now be first in line to the throne, who would now be crown prince of Durin's line. Too young, it echoed in his mind, too young, too young, he is just a child.

Fili didn't make a sound when he came sprinting over, showed no hesitation or fear at all when he threw his small arms around his uncle's neck, despite the blood in his coat. Thorin welcomed the weight against his chest, the warm body that borrowed himself against the crook of his neck, and his heart fought against the cold iron bars of its cage.

But Thorin couldn't let himself feel, not yet, not now, there was too much to be done. Wrapping his arms around Fili, he held onto his nephew, while Balin climbed from the cart.  
"Welcome back, uncle Thorin.", his nephew's quiet voice whispered by his ears and the dwarfling pulled back, and oh god he looked as always so wise beyond his years, small blue eyes looked at him with so much love then that it almost ripped his heart from his chest all over again.

"Will you help with Ma now? I can't do it alone, uncle Thorin, and aunt Hera said that Pa...", and blue eyes switched over to the cart, from where Fundin watched him with gentle eyes filled with tears, "that Pa is very very sick, but Momma is too and I...", Thorin blinked just as Dwalin fell to his knees right next to him, one big hand coming to stroke through wild blond hair.

"What did yah just say, Fili? Why is your Ma sick?", Thorin could not speak, could not think, could only feel how his heart was screaming, could only feel how the ice pushed itself through his veins. No, not her, not her as well, oh Mahal have mercy, have some last piece of mercy for my soul, do not take her from me as well, not her.

"What happened, Fili?", Balin wanted to know from behind them and blue eyes filled with tears as the dwarfling slipped from his uncle's sudden frozen limbs over to the still armored ones of Dwalin, tiny hands fisting themselves into a brown tunic while he tried to press himself as close as possible to his uncle.

"Hera said the baby was too early.", he mumbled quietly, "Momma was screaming so much and then she slept for days, and she is still so tired and wouldn't stand up.", all four awake warrior's froze, until Thorin whipped his head around to stare at his nephew when the words really set in his mind. 

None of them had known that Dis had been with child, if he had known he would have never let Vili follow them, he would have forced him to stay with his wife and now, oh god, what had he done, what had they done.

Thorin caught Dwalin's eye and together and in sync as always they scrambled to their feet, Dwalin picking Fili up along the way, keeping a tight hold on him as they dashed towards the house that Dis had shared with her husband and son. A maid jumped out of their way with a choked scream as they barreled through the corridors on their way to the master bedroom of the back.

Not her, please not her, do not take her as well.

Take me instead, was Thorin's last thought before he crashed through the door.

\--

"I will be okay, nadad.", Dis repeated endlessly in his ear some minutes later as he knelt on her bed, holding her pale and thin body to his, she is weak in body but not in mind, his sister had always been the strongest one of them. There was grief in her, he could see it in blue eyes, but there was strength as well, "We'll get through this, we always do.", she smiled thinly up at him after she had pulled back.

Fili was silently sniffling in Dwalin's arms where their cousin was standing at the side of the bed, the relief to see Dis awake and at least half well for once able to hide the grief and horror on his face. In the corner of the room, next to the door, the second maid was still blinking in shock over their sudden arrival, and she blushed when Dis turned towards her.

"Will you take Issa and Jofi and make sure that my husband gets settled into the room we prepared for him? And help Lord Balin to get Lord Fundin settled in as well, start the fires up.", she ordered with the usual quick demanding tone, no matter how much she was clinging to her older brother.  
"Yes, my Lady.", the maid stuttered and hurried from the room, closing the door behind her.

"I had feared the worst when Fili...", Thorin spoke again but Dis quickly shushed him again, bringing their foreheads together.  
"I am fine, nadad, just still a little week. I will be alright. We're all gonna be alright. We will mourn, we will grieve, but we will not lose hope.", Thorin hung his head, shame burning bright in his chest.

"How can you still have hope? They are dead, namadid, I saw them die, I saw father...", and he pressed his lips shut when the sob threatened to uncurl itself in his lungs, but he looked back up when his sister stroked a hand through the stubble of his beard, cut not two hours after the battle, and her blue eyes shone with a strength that seemed to ran deep to her very core.

"I have strength because Mahal has given us hope. I have gotten a sign from him that our time is not yet over in this world. The line of Durin is not broken, and he still wants us to fight on.", confusion ebbed itself into the hard lines in his face as Thorin listened to his sister, she had always been more in touch with the cultural side of their race, always more in touch with the phrophets, "Stand up and turn around, nadad, and tell me that you cannot see the hope in him as well."

Him?

Puzzled Thorin drew his eyebrows together, but still let go of his sister and turned around, and this time the sob broke from his lips when he took one step and then fell to his knees once more next to the wooden cradle. The wooden cradle that held the sleeping babe with a head full of black hair. Tiny, oh so tiny, but breathing, one tiny fist strongly clasped the blanket that was pulled over him.

"The babe lived.", he said in awe, not even aware of the tears on his face, "He lived.", strong footsteps could be heard when Dwalin came around the bed to stand next to him.  
"Two months early, but strong now. We feared for a long time but he held on, he fought so bravely again and again when death came begging. He is my hope, Thorin. Fili and him, they will bring us through this darkness. They are hope, and Kili is a sign. I will not believe anything else, he was born on the day of the battle, at noon."

At noon when Frerin fell. 

Thorin choked and reached out a hand to touch the small fingers of a tiny fist, "Kili.", he repeated the name and down below on the furs the babe twitched once and then opened dark brown eyes, and the warmth in them, it hit Thorin like a hammer stroke. Dwalin's hand came to rest upon his shoulder, and only then did he become aware of how much he was shaking.

Fili wriggled from Dwalin's arms and walked until he was standing on the other side of the cradle, and Thorin was mesmerized how the tiny babe already followed his nephew's every movement with rapt attention.  
"Kee, this is our uncle Thorin. And our uncle Dwalin.", he introduced them formally, lips curling into a small smile in the end and somehow it happened what Thorin would have last expected. 

Brown eyes turned to settle on him again, tiny lips smacked against each other for a moment and then pulled apart, and the tiny babe smiled up at him. He smiled, and smiled and smiled. And inside of Thorin an iron cage crumbled away from his heart, and the pain he had pushed away with so much will, it crashed over him again, here at the side of his second nephew's cradle.

And for the first time since the battle, the new king let himself fall, dropped his hands to the ground and cried. Cried and wept for the burden on his shoulders, for the shame on his mind, for the king he had lost. Cried for the grandfather, the father, the aunt, the little brother he had lost.

And inside the cradle a tiny infant smiled and gurgled up at his older brother.

The line of Durin was not broken. His sister was right, Mahal had given them hope.

\--

Fundin held on for six months, six more months than everyone had believed, and it would take Thorin seventy eight years to understand why, and where he had gotten the strength from to hold on as long as he did. 

But he still cherished every moment he got, because Fundin was the oldest among them now, and he was so important in helping his son and his new king to built them up from the ground again. He advised Balin who advised Thorin, and somehow they manage. It took weeks and weeks, by the end of which Thorin's heart was almost hardened to the point of no return, and only his sister and her two sons were able to bring a sign of anything but coldness to his face.

Fundin spent a lot of time sleeping, and the other part resting in an armchair by the fireplace in Dis's living room, never alone though. When he wasn't talking with his older son and his best friend's son, he had the attention and audience of small ears and mouths, and Fili especially listened with bright eyes to every word coming from Fundin's lips.

He died in the early hours of the evening.

They were all sitting in the living room, everyone but Vili whose state still hadn't changed, who was sleeping and staring into nothingness more than he was lucid enough to talk. Thorin and Balin had been arguing quietly and friendly over a report from the mines at the table, Dis had been knitting on the couch, leaning back against Dwalin who had just returned from guarding a caravan for money they needed to survive now.

The room had been filled with warmth and the memory of tinkling laughter from two dwarflings still fresh on their minds, two dwarflings who were fast asleep now. And it was like that, Kili sprawled over his chest, sucking on a strand of hair, and Fili pressed to his side, one small fist tightly wrapped around another part of Fundin's beard, that Fundin finally slipped away into a sleep he would not wake from again.

And though they mourned him as well, they all knew that he at least died happy and surrounded by the warmth of his family, instead of the coldness of a blood and scream filled battlefield.

And as Dwalin wept quiet tears as they brought his father back to the stone, a tiny eight months old dwarfling reached out his chubby fingers where he had been sitting on his mother's hip, and he smiled.

He smiled and smiled and smiled and brought the hope back into a warrior's crushed heart.

They had hope.

\--

Vili went one and a half years later, just as silently in his sleep, one morning he didn't wake anymore. He had never fully recovered from the terror that had followed him home inside his mind, had never fully managed to leave the pain of losing his best friend right beside him.

Though he found back to them once in a while, most of his time was spent in silence in the dark room on the other end of the corridor from the master bedroom where his wife now slept alone. The fits of anger grew less and less, but the time he spent staring into empty air, listening to voices only he could hear, it grew longer and longer.

Dis tried her best to make his dwindling time as comfortable as possible, kept the boys away from him when he wasn't with him, brought them to him when he asked for them. 

In a way they were relieved when he died, because all of them could still remember the joking and life loving dwarf who had swept into their lives, who had laughed so much, who had always been able to bring the sun into every house.

And when they carried him back to the stone, Dis cried, one son on her hand and the other one on her hip, she watched how they lowered her husband into the tomb.

And through it all, even as Fili crumbled and cried and burried his face in Dwalin's neck as the tall dwarf picked him up, through it all Kili smiled at her. And he smiled and smiled and smiled.

And Dis knew she could still be strong, they still had something to hope for.

Hope for a better time. Hope for a time where her brother and cousins wouldn't have to leave like every other merchant and soldier in the settlement to bring money home so they could survive the next month.

They had hope.

\--

75 years later, Thorin found himself sitting on a bench on the market place, watching his nephews drink and laugh with their friends as they celebrated a mid summer's festival, some days before he would leave for the Iron Hills to talk with Dain over help for a quest.

His eyes strayed over to where Dwalin was swinging his sister around with strong arms, her head thrown back in laughter as they danced among other couples on the dancefloor. They had formed a good life for themselves in the Blue Mountains, but Thorin knew that it was time to reach for something more, Gandalf had been right, it was time for more.

It was time for Durin's folk to return home.

"I can't say I'm surprised to see you this far off, laddie, but at least today a king could find joy with his people.", Thorin smiled slightly when Balin sat down next to him.  
"I am merely thinking, my friend.", he offered quietly and Balin hummed, both of them looking over to the table of youths once more when Kili's loud laughter rang out. They watched how Fili got pulled to his feet by an evilly smirking Gemini, who then proceeded to push him over to the dancefloor.

Kili roared with laughter, while Gimli and Lifa groaned and handed over some gold coins to him, Balin's deep sigh pulled Thorin away from the picture again, "You are still set on taking them with you, aren't you? Fili, I understand, but Kili is still young and reckless."

"He is a good lad, a skillfull hunter and the best archer we ever had. He is hope. And we will need a lot of hope in the coming year.", Thorin calmly explained and Balin nodded. It pained his heart a little to bring his nephews, bring his boys into a world full of danger and the unknown, but he also knew that he wouldn't be able to keep them from their future forever.

And he himself had hope that by bringing the youngest Durin on their journey east, he would somehow bring Mahal's blessing along with them, just as much as he had brought it to them when he had gifted them with a raven haired babe on the day of the dwarves' biggest loss.

As long as they had Kili, they had hope. 

As long as he had Kili, Thorin had hope.

**Author's Note:**

> Please forgive me, I know it hurts.


End file.
